Cowboys and Angels
by Little Octopus
Summary: Arthur is an angel used to retrieve pure souls. Most people, aside from children and the elderly, cannot see him. However, what happens when a cowboy notices him?


**Cowboys and Angels.**

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. He was sent to retrieve the soul. Not fall in love with him. Now here they were, staring at each other fall into the dark. He reached a hand out. The blond across from him smiled warmly and pulled him close. The soul encased his body as they fell. He did not feel any flames when they entered.

{•}

Arthur leans against the branch as the boy leaves his house. With interest, Arthur watches the boy as he saunters over to a stable and swings the door open.

"Come on out, Baby." he twangs.

A pure black horse emerges from the corral. Arthur pushes himself forward and watches her trot to the cowboy who grins and rubs her nose.

"Awww, such a sweet girl!"

The horse nods her head in approval.

The boy laughs and loops reins around her face. "Come on." He turns and with the horse, Baby, on his heels. He leads her to a creek.

Arthur slides from his tree branch and drops a few feet before his wings catch him. He follows above the cowboy, feet above a peculiar piece of hair that does not seem to go down. Arthur pulls out a leather bound book and searches for the boy's face. Finding it, he reads the profile out loud, not worried about the boy hearing him.

"Alfred F. Jones." he reads. He glances at the cowboy, whose eyes had snapped around. "Born July 4th 1993. Dirty blond. Blue eyes. Height 5'9, weight 175 pounds."

Alfred stops and swivels on his heel. "Hello?" he calls.

Arthur shrugs it off. Probably a squirrel skittering through the low trees. "Date of death-"

"What?!" Alfred shrieks. "Date of death?! I'm gonna die? Who are you!"

Arthur pauses, astonishment in his green eyes. "You can hear me?"

"Yes I can hear ya! Who are you?" Alfred grips Baby's reins tighter. She shuffles her feet.

"My name is Arthur." he replies.

"Well ya know my name and bout everythin' else. But where are you?" Alfred's amazing blue eyes skirt his surroundings.

"Above you. And I would appreciate it if you would use proper English." Arthur huffs, leaning back in the air and crossing his sandaled feet.

Alfred tilts his head back and gasps. He steps backwards a few feet before tripping on a jutting tree trunk. "An angel!" he breathes.

Arthur blinks before lowering himself to the ground. He tucks his wings against his back and smooths out his tunic. "How can you see me?"

"I dunno." Alfred stands and grabs hold of Arthur's wrist. "And you're real! Gosh, I've only every seen an angel once and he was a looker too. But you, my oh my, I could write a song 'bout chu." Alfred grins and prods Arthur's arms and cheeks.

Finally Arthur pulls back and hovers right out of Alfred's reach. "What do you mean you've seen another one of us before?"

"At my ma's funeral. An angel led her away. He was little, 'bout this tall, really, had short black hair. I was only ten then but I got the _hugest_ crush on him. Never did see him again though." Alfred sticks his lip out and hooks his thumbs through his belt loops.

Arthur knows the angel Alfred spoke of. Kiku. He dealt with older women's deaths. He had a much more calming presence than the normal angel. Arthur, on the other hand, was assigned 16-23. The Rebel Stage, God called it. Not to mention, Arthur was the same age as most of the souls he collected, he also understood how they felt. He knew how it was to want to kill yourself, to drink yourself to death, to even accidentally kill everyone in the car while driving drunk. It was amazing how he got into heaven in the first place. But with Alfred, he seemed pretty straight forward. He didn't have any tattoos or piercings, his hair had remained honey blond his entire life and he only pouted when he wanted something. Arthur was, least to say, confused of why he was assigned to bring this soul back. Maybe he could figure it out in the month he was with Alfred. Angels were sent a month prior to a soul's death to determine whether that soul will come with them, or go to hell.

Arthur clears his throat. "Yes, that's Kiku. You might-" suddenly, Arthur can't tell Alfred that he will meet Kiku. Alfred seemed so alive. In just the hour Arthur observed him, Alfred looked and acted perfectly healthy. How could this boy possibly die? "You might not be able to meet him." Arthur continues.

"Oh. Tha's okay." Alfred grins. "I like blonds better."

Arthur feels his cheeks heat up against his will. He folds his arms and sticks his nose in the air.

"So, why are you here?" Alfred asks. Taking hold again of Baby's reigns, he continues the trek to the small crook.

Arthur floats behind him, his heart hammering. He can't very well tell Alfred he's waiting for him to die! Maybe he can use his mother in this. Would that be acceptable? Probably not. He could make something up...

"Arthur?" Alfred looks over his shoulder.

Shit. "Just checking up on you. God likes his angels to monitor a new person each month to make sure they're doing well." That sounded believable, right? Hell, the American was talking to an angel that no one ever saw, it was believable.

"Oh." Alfred grins widely. Arthur feels like he trips in the middle of the air. "Guess I got lucky gettin' ya then, huh?"

"Maybe so." Arthur replies. He glides to the front of Baby and examines her large dark eyes. "Why is her name Baby?" Arthur asks, hoping Alfred won't notice the subject change.

"When she was born, her mama died and I took care of her. She's my baby." Alfred explains. His grin softens into an adoring smile.

"Oh." Arthur breathes, running a fingertip over a dark patch on Baby's nose. The horse nods her head and moves closer to the angel, making him jump back a bit.

Alfred laughs. "She ain't gon' hurt ya! Prolly don't even hurt the flies that buzz 'round her." He gives Baby a firm clap on the flank before releasing her reins. She trots into the water.

"So, Mister Angel." Alfred grins. Why is Arthur's heart pounding? "What does yer job consist of?"

Arthur hums in thought before dropping down beside Alfred. He folds his hands neatly behind him. How to explain this... "Making sure you are on the right track." To death. Arthur bites his lip.

"Right track to what?" Alfred asks, curiosity in his blue eyes.

"Your... future." Arthur smiles. That works.

"I see." They stand in silence until Alfred moves to bring Baby in from the water. "How many other people can see you?"

"Well, it's usually younger and older people. I've never had a twenty year old notice me." Arthur replies, watching Alfred practically push Baby up the bank.

"Huh. Weird." Alfred says. Baby is finally on dry land and Alfred takes her reins. "I would think more people would see ya." He begins walking back to the barn.

Arthur shrugs and follows. To be honest, angels were designed for the young and elderly to see them. It gave the children comfort and helped the aged accept their fate. Everyone in the middle just didn't need help. Realistic people, they were.

For the rest of the day, Arthur watches Alfred work. He tends to Baby, weeds a vegetable garden beside the small wooden house, picks peaches from a small orchard beside the barn and as the sun sets into late afternoon, Alfred moves inside.

The living room and kitchen area are separated only by an Indian rug and a brown leather couch. A wooden table with many notches and stains sits in the middle of the half-circle kitchen. A glass table that has antlers as the legs rests in front of the couch. Only a computer is in the room.

"So, am I 'sposed to like get ya a bed?" Alfred asks, scratching the back of his neck.

"It's not necessary. We usually hover and sleep on earth."

"Whatcha got up in heaven?" Alfred asks, washing his hands.

"Well, some of us don't even sleep. Others, like Kiku and I, have beds. And no, not everything is made up of clouds. It's pretty much like Earth beds, only softer and much more poofy." Arthur describes it the best he can. It's hard to explain heaven to someone who has never been there.

"Oh. Well I was gon' say you can sleep in my Ma's old room. Kinda dusty and has some of her stuff. Knickknacks and things. Or uh..."

Arthur tilts his head and waits for Alfred to continue.

"Y-ya could sleep in my room." A blush darkens Alfred's tan cheeks.

Arthur presses a hand to his mouth.

"N-not that I want to _sleep_ with you! Well I do but- I just mean-! Gah!" Alfred turns his back to the Angel and leans against he countertop, his hands splayed against the marble.

Arthur grins behind his hand before regaining his composure. "Wherever is fine, Alfred. I don't mean to impose. Especially since you can see me."

Alfred nods and moves to the fridge. "Ya hungry? I can make pork steaks or we can have stew. Or if you don't feel like homemade stuff we can go out-"

Arthur floats gently to Alfred. "Homemade sounds wonderful. I'm actually curious as to what a pork steak is..."

"The best darn thing ever!" Alfred grins and begins yanking things from the fridge. "You'll love 'em!" He spreads his armful of food across the counter and jogs outside.

Arthur begins to follow but Alfred is back inside before he can even get to the door. "Wha-"

"Had to start the grill." He grins and cuts open a package of pork chops. Arthur hovers over his shoulder. Literally.

"Do ya wanna help or somethin'?" Alfred asks, turning his head slightly.

Arthur suddenly realizes how close they are. He backs up a few inches before testing his feet on the floor, the wood rough even through his sandals. "Er, no. I burn boiling water." he says, sheepishly. He really isn't _that_ bad at cooking, but ever since he tried to help Kiku make sweets for a gathering, he had been banned from every kitchen in angel kind. And for the sake of humans, any kitchen ever made.

Alfred laughs, his head tilted back and his teeth showing. Arthur feels his heart flutter like his wings. "You can't be serious."

Arthur shrugs and folds his hands sheepishly behind him. "Unfortunately so."

With a shake of his head, Alfred continues with the meal. Arthur would never have Alfred say it, but the cowboy looked very pleased to have Arthur hover over his shoulder as he cooked.

When the meal is complete, Arthur slips gingerly into the wooden chair. Suddenly, he feels self-conscious of how short his tunic is. Why is he noticing this now? He feels his face heat up as Alfred leans over his back to set a rather big plate in front of him. Alfred gives him a questioning look but otherwise leaves Arthur and his red face alone.

Arthur scoops up a fork as Alfred takes his seat. Just as he stabs into the big hunk of red meat, Alfred sets a hand on Arthur's fingers. "We gotta say grace. Aren't ya an angel?" Alfred grins as Arthur stutters and drops his fork.

"Right, sorry." Arthur goes to fold his hands, but Alfred keeps his fingers firm around his. Arthur gives him a questioning look.

Alfred chuckles. "We hold hands."

"Oh." Arthur lifts his other hand, God forbid his shaking. Alfred wraps his warm, calloused hand around Arthur's smooth and soft hand. Arthur feels a thrill dance down his spine.

Alfred bows his head and Arthur follows. He hears Alfred mutter something. He risks a glance up at the American and finds his eyes closed and his face relaxed from its usual grin. For a moment, Arthur is mesmerized. Then Alfred says, "A-men!" and lifts his head. Arthur quickly whispers his own before releasing Alfred's hand. Arthur could swear Alfred let his fingers linger.

"Dig in!" Alfred grins and takes a huge bite. Arthur isn't sure if he should feel revolted or turned on by how much the man can fit in his mouth.

Arthur about drops his fork again. An angel should not be having such thoughts! Especially about a soul he was sent to retrieve!

Alfred seems to notice Arthur having an emotional wrestling match. He tilts his head and swallows. "Sum-thin' wrong?"

"N-no. I just-" Arthur throws his eyes around Alfred's house before sighing. "Tired. Flying all day looking for you."

"Oh. Well you don't always have to search far." Arthur watches Alfred's hand as it slides across the table and grips Arthur's again. "I'll always be right here."

Arthur feels a tingle at the base of his wings. He somehow knows Alfred isn't lying.

{•}

Alfred hits another rut in the dirt road and Arthur about whacks his head on the ceiling. Again.

"Will you bloody stop that!" Arthur snaps, frustrated that the truck is too small for him to spread his wings, not to mention its constant rattling.

Now, why had he agreed to ride in this blasted vehicle? Alfred had insisted. And since Alfred had spent the night on the floor as Arthur slept in his bed, the angel felt he owed the cowboy.

"Doin' what?" Alfred asks, grinning at Arthur.

"You know what!" Arthur winces as his elbow connects with the window.

"Drivin'?"

"Like a madman!"

Alfred roars with laughter as they leave the dirt road to normal asphalt. Arthur feels himself relax at the smoother road.

"That better for ya?" Alfred chortles.

"Yes, thank you." Arthur grumbles. He leans his head against the seat and watches the yellow-gold fields zoom past him. The view wasn't that different when he was flying, but since he wasn't using energy or thinking about flying, the rolling fields were a lot nicer to look at.

"And here's the town. Try not to gawk too much." Alfred grins and slows the truck significantly.

Arthur leans forward and sticks his head out the window. Families and couples stroll down the streets, passing a diner, a movie theater, an auto repair shop, a barber shop, and a nail salon. Arthur can see the looming of a grocery store, but other than that, all that fills the space are houses and trailers.

"Wow." Arthur breathes. He loves it. It's so much better than all of the big cities he's sent to to retrieve the regular unfortunate souls. This town just further confuses him as to why Alfred would die at such a young age. Arthur brings his head back in to gaze at Alfred.

The sun glints through the windshield and makes his wheat hair shine like gold. Arthur bites his lip and fiddles with his hands in his lap.

"'Ere we are!" Alfred pulls into the grocery store parking lot.

Arthur gets out of the truck quickly and gazes at the 'grocery store.' What Arthur thought was the roof of the store was actually a canopy for what Arthur guessed was a farmers' market.

"_This_ is the grocery store?" he asks.

"Yeah." Alfred comes to stand beside Arthur and smiles. "Sum'thin' wrong?"

"Well, all the other shops I've seen have been... indoors."

Alfred laughs and waves a hand. "Nah. It's way too hot and way too much money to air condition a grocery store. 'Sides, we get a lot fresher stuff than at those fancy smancy stores."

"Oh." Arthur whispers, watching mothers push strollers and teenagers stare at Alfred.

Alfred waves at the teens. The girls giggle and one boy blushes and looks down. "I've got to stop talkin' to ya. People'll think I'm crazy."

"Right." Arthur smiles and sets his hands on Alfred's arms. "I don't want to get lost."

With a grin, Alfred nods and they begin their trek through the market. Alfred retrieves a basket from a little boy, paying him twice the amount for the basket. Arthur blinks at Alfred's generosity and thinks back to the big question, how could this lad possibly die so young?

Alfred smiles and chats with everyone at the market. Arthur watches with interest as what should have been an hour and one hundred dollars turns into three hours and three hundred dollars. Although all of the people refuse to take the extra cash, Alfred waves them off and moves to the next vendor.

Arthur notices that Alfred buys at least one item from every person. Even the woman- who Arthur is pretty sure is a witch - who is selling homemade bracelets. Alfred carefully selects a faux pearl embedded bracelet along with a gold and emerald one.

Arthur watches with interest as Alfred pockets the bracelets delicately and pays the woman much more than what the trinkets were worth.

As they make their way to the truck, Arthur floats curiously behind Alfred. "Why do you pay them so much? They all refused."

Alfred set his basket of goods on the floor of the passenger seat and waits for Arthur to get in the truck. Alfred got in on the driver's side and turned the air conditioner on full blast. "Because they deserve it."

Arthur blinked. "But there was that one woman who had a giant ring. She didn't seem like she needed-"

"I said deserve, not need." Alfred stated, starting down the long road to his house. "Ya see, when my Ma died, I was in mid school, playing basketball. On her way, a semi came outta nowhere. Right at half time, I couldn't find her in the crowd, but the entire town came and s'ported me. At the end of the game, they told me."

"Alfred, I'm so sorry." Arthur pouts and slides into the middle seat, his hand on Alfred's on the steering wheel.

"Don't worry bout it." Alfred smiles.

Arthur winces as the road changes back to dirt and he's jostled around. "I, er, I don't mean to pry, but, your father?"

Alfred's hands visibly tense, Arthur squeezes one of them.

"He's a good fer nutin' piece o' feckin' shit-" Alfred stops abruptly and lets out a shaky breath. "Guess I can't swear in front of an angel."

"No, it's fine." Arthur smiles. "I understand." He turns to look out the window as Alfred speaks again.

"No. You don't."

Actually, Arthur knew everything about Alfred. Right down to every mole. He knew that Alfred's father had neglected him until Alfred's mother finally took him away. Arthur was in the same boat. His father beat him enough to make him drink his life away.

Arthur just smiles bitterly and braces himself for the bumpy ride back to Alfred's house.

{•}

Arthur's second week at Alfred's has become dangerous. As a rule, Angels are not allowed to have a physical relationship with humans. It had initially been relatively easy since only one in one hundred can see the Angels, however, Alfred is a whole new playing field. Arthur feels something he hasn't felt since he was alive. Desire. And having that emotion is like playing with fire.

By physical contact, God means anything more than holding hands - to help someone across the border - or a hug - they often hug to comfort the deceased. And Alfred is _way_ over the limit.

First of all, the American himself is very touchy-feely. And he doesn't even realize it sends tingles up and down Arthur's back and leaves a searing, invisible mark wherever Alfred touches him.

Secondly, Arthur has forgotten how _nice_ it feels to be touched. His body moves without the permission of his mind closer to Alfred. The cowboy doesn't seem to mind.

One evening, Alfred is dozing on the couch after a long day of throwing hay. Arthur is sitting on the opposite end of the piece of furniture, but he has extended his legs into Alfred's lap. The American currently rests his hand on Arthur's shin, down near his ankle. His sandals lay beside Alfred's feet.

Suddenly, Alfred opens his eyes. Arthur smiles and drops his arm across the back of the couch, his fingers teasing the ends of Alfred's hair. "Wanna go up to your bed?" Arthur whispers, realizing too late that he had said 'wanna.' He winces as Alfred chuckles.

"Nah. What's today though?" Alfred mumbled back, his thumb running circles into Arthur's skin.

After a moment of thought, Arthur answers, "The tenth."

Alfred groans and stands, rubbing his neck. "I almos' fergot."

Arthur pouts slightly at their loss of contact. "Forgot what?" he asks.

"To see Ma's grave." Alfred shuffles over to the door and slips on his boots.

"Oh." Arthur stands awkwardly beside the couch, waiting for... he wasn't sure what.

As Alfred slips on a leather jacket, he glances at Arthur and smiles. "Wanna come?"

Arthur felt his heart patter. "Yes. Let me get my sandals on." He sits down again and begins lacing his sandals up his calf.

Alfred comes over and his rough fingers cover Arthur's. "Let me do that." he mumbles, his voice low and husky.

Arthur curses the flimsy tunic he wore. "Thank you." he whispers, watching Alfred caress his leg as he ties the strings of his sandals.

When Alfred finishes, Arthur is pretty sure he can fly with just how fast his heart is flapping around.

Alfred smiles and offers him his hand. Arthur wraps his fingers around Alfred's palm and stands.

"How are we getting there?" Arthur asks as they go outside.

"Well..." Alfred walks into the barn.

Arthur blinks in surprise. They were going to take Baby?

But Alfred just walks by his sleeping horse, giving her a short pat along the way. Arthur follows Alfred into the corner of the barn and finds a tarp.

"My Ma set up an account for me so I could buy this. I only use it to visit her."

"Why today?" Arthur asks, moving closer to the tarp.

"It's her birthday." Alfred says, yanking the tarp off to reveal a sleek black Indian.

Arthur gasps and floats toward the motorcycle. "Alfred, it's beautiful." Arthur breathes, running his fingers gently over the body.

Alfred grins. "Want a ride?" he asks, swinging his leg over it.

With a hot face, Arthur drops down behind Alfred, and as usual, his darn skirt rides up. He tugs on the fabric self consciously as Alfred kicks the bike to life.

As Alfred walks the bike toward the door, he glances over his shoulder. "I can lend ya some pants, Art. Ya don't have to wear that dang thing. It sure don't look comfy."

Arthur smiles and places his arms at Alfred's waist. "Thank you, Alfred. But to put on anything other than angelic clothing is a sin, even if it is more modest."

Alfred tilts his head in obvious confusion and Arthur laughs. "I don't get it either."

"Alright, well, looks like ya know what to do." Alfred says, lifting his legs and starting down a different trail than the one Arthur had seen him use.

Arthur smirks and places his chin on Alfred's shoulder. "Of course I know how to hang on to a bike. I used to own one."

Alfred glances over his shoulder. "Is that right?"

"It is." Arthur grins. "She was blue."

Laughing, Alfred turns into a grove of trees. Arthur tilts his head back and sees leaves falling from their harsh wind. He sees stars soaring over them, blanketing them. With a small laugh, Arthur releases Alfred and flies right above the cowboy. He spreads his arms and allows his feet to dangle. He feels like Peter Pan.

Arthur glances behind them and sees a plume of dust and leaves and stars. Their trail. He lets his hand fall below him, touching Alfred's hair. Then, the angel laughs.

Alfred grins as they exit the trees. He slows down, making Arthur do so as well. The angel finds himself panting as he lowers himself back behind Alfred as he walks the bike forward a few feet.

Alfred's smile slowly fades as they come to a stop. Arthur slips off the Indian quietly. Alfred follows more slowly, almost as if his limbs are heavy. Arthur holds out his hand with a gentle smile. Alfred gulps, but his warm, calloused hand clutches Arthur's.

"This way." Alfred whispers, ducking around a large bush.

Arthur follows and discovers that they are now in a cemetery, in the farthest corner from the little house where the groundskeeper stays.

"Isn't this breaking and entering?" Arthur whispers.

Alfred rolls his eyes. "No one else can see ya. Why do ya care?"

Arthur shrugs.

Alfred walks maybe ten feet from the edge of the grounds before kneeling down. Arthur lifts his feet and flies quietly to hover above the American. He moves up a few inches when he realizes Alfred is whispering. He doesn't want to intrude upon what the Cowboy is saying to his mother.

Instead, Arthur tilts his head back and glares at the sky above him. How dare God take someone Alfred loves from him. Alfred, who is so kind to everyone everyday because they were once kind to him. Alfred, who lets Arthur cook and sleep in his bed while he sleeps on the floor. Alfred, who Arthur is falling wings over heels for.

Alfred stands just then and looks up at Arthur. The angel smiles, though his face feels like rubber. Alfred's eyes are bright with tears. Arthur lets his feet touch the dewy grass and embraces Alfred tightly. He can't take his soul. It's too perfect to be ripped from this world.

Alfred sniffs into his shoulder. "No one's held me since the funeral." he whispers.

Arthur closes his eyes as he grips Alfred closer. He buries his fingers in the Americans hair. "Let's go home." he murmurs, grabbing Alfred's hands and leading him out to the bike.

Arthur waits patiently beside the motorcycle as Alfred wipes his face and controls his breathing. Once Alfred has swung his leg over the seat, Arthur quickly places himself behind him. Arthur wraps his arms around Alfred's middle and squeezes Alfred's thighs with his knees. Alfred drops a hand to where Arthur's hands rest against his belly button. Arthur presses his face into Alfred's back.

One of Alfred's hands falls from Arthur's and on to the Angels thigh. Arthur smiles and teases the hem of Alfred's shirt.

{•}

Shit. Shit. _Shit_.

Arthur sighs as Alfred's hand rake up his thighs. The cowboy's mouth covers his, their tongues intertwining.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

"Alfred." Arthur breathes, shuddering as his flimsy tunic comes untied and falls to the floor. His wings shudder.

He should _not_ be doing this. Especially with a soul he's supposed to be collecting. But it feels so good, so amazing.

"Hah... ah!" Arthur jumps as Alfred's hand closes around his hard cock. It hasn't been touched since before he died. Angels feel no urges. Well, that's what he'd been told, anyway.

Alfred chuckles and sucks harshly on Arthur's neck. "Bet I'm the only one who can say they fucked an angel."

That makes Arthur freeze. He grabs Alfred's arm and looks at him sternly. "This is not a quick fuck, Alfred." he says, pushing at Alfred's chest while tugging at his shirt. "I haven't felt this way about anyone for a long time, and I won't have you ruin it by calling it a 'fuck.' Okay?" Arthur finishes by tossing Alfred's shirt on the floor and pressing down on Alfred's obvious erection through his jeans.

Alfred lets out a groan, his head nodding that he understands.

Arthur smiles. His hands dove for Alfred's belt. He had almost forgotten how to undo a belt. He suddenly realizes how long it has been since he had sex. He moans at the thought of it.

With Alfred's jeans finally undone, Alfred stands and tosses them to the floor before covering Arthur's body with his own.

Arthur spreads his legs to accommodate Alfred's torso, his wings mimicking the motion of his legs, the feathers no longer touching the bed. The cowboy presses their hips together, making Arthur cry out and toss his head back. Alfred begins moving against Arthur's cock, rubbing the precum over both of their erections.

"Nngh! Hah!" Arthur moans, his hands twisting into the sheets.

Alfred stops his movements and leans over Arthur toward the bedside table. Arthur groans at the loss.

Soon Alfred is back with a small bottle. Arthur smiles and hefts a leg on Alfred's shoulder. "You know how to use that stuff?"

Alfred chuckles and squirts the clear substance over his fingers. "You really think I'm a virgin?"

Arthur holds his breath as Alfred moves a finger inside him. He winces at the forgotten feeling, but also when a few feathers fall out from his wings.

The angel's body quickly remembers how to react, even if it's now celestial and pure. Alfred presses in a second finger easily, and his third goes in with little resistance. Arthur cries out as Alfred curls his fingers. More feathers fall from his white wings.

Alfred groans in anticipation against Arthur's neck, his hand moving quickly against Arthur's entrance.

"Alfred." Arthur breathes out, his back arching. "Hurry."

With a nod, Alfred retracts his fingers and spreads the remaining lube on his cock before lining himself up with Arthur. He pushes in slowly, finally noticing the feathers on the bed. "Arthur-"

"Shut up." Arthur hisses, wrapping his legs around Alfred's torso and pulling him inside fully.

Alfred groans at the feeling. Arthur's body opens and pulls him in. It makes Alfred shudder.

Arthur tosses his head back and cries out. The burn feels so good inside him, however, his wings just won't let him be.

"Hah... Alfred." Arthur moves his hips and groans as Alfred shifts inside of him.

Planting his hands on the mattress, Alfred begins moving at a swift pace. He lifts Arthur's other leg to his shoulder as he pounds into the angel.

"Aah! Hah! Alfred!" Arthur screams. He meets Alfred's thrusts in the middle, causing a slight slapping sound to emerge between them.

Alfred groans. He picks up the pace, effectively making Arthur's legs feel like jelly. Arthur feels Alfred's hand close around his cock. He pumps the stiff shaft to the opposite of his thrusts. Arthur moans loudly as he felt the familiar hot feeling in his stomach and balls.

"Arthur!" Alfred cries. Arthur screams as Alfred's hot seed fills him. Arthur comes right after, his own white covering his stomach.

Alfred lies on Arthur's chest, his breath tickling the angel's neck. Arthur brings his arms up to cradle Alfred against him. After Alfred catches his breath, he slips out of Arthur. The angel shivers as cold replaces the heat inside him. He closes his eyes as cum drips down to the bed.

"C'mon. Let's get you in the bath." Alfred says gently. He stands and his arms wind around Arthur's shoulders and the back of his knees.

Arthur was soon against Alfred's chest. The angel wraps his arms around Alfred's neck and crosses his ankles. "Will you be joining me?"

Alfred chuckles. "I thought I would change the bed, but, if ya want."

The angel glances at the bed and sees the mess of their love making. The sheets are pulled from the corners and feathers litter the pillows.

Arthur suddenly feels a sense of dread in his belly. "Actually, if you would change the sheets..." he mumbles.

"Alright." Alfred deposits the angel in the bathroom. After a brief tutorial on how to use the faucet and a kiss, Alfred goes back to his room.

Arthur hugs his knees to his chest as the tub fills with hot water. "What do you want?" he asks softly.

A deep voice rumbles in his mind. "You have created a great sin, Arthur." It says

Arthur gulps as God's voice spreads throughout his being.

"I-I know. I just.." What could he say? God would know that Alfred hadn't tricked or drugged him. He can see that Arthur had fallen in love with the cowboy. "I'm sorry." Arthur whispers.

God is silent, but Arthur can still feel his presence heavy in his chest.

"What do you want me to do?" Arthur finally asks, unable to stand the silence.

"Do not interfere with his death." Is Arthur's only answer.

Suddenly, the date of death comes to Arthur's mind. It's hardly a week away. Arthur feels a forgotten burning behind his eyes. He hiccups and shivers as his first tear in years rolls down his cheek.

"Artie? Ya okay in there?" Alfred's cheery voice comes from the door. "I made hot chocolate. It's my ma's recipe. Thought cha might like it."

Arthur presses a hand to his mouth as more tears spill. Why must he be assigned to _this_ mortal? Why did he have to fall in love? He lets out a pain-filled noise.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur lowers his hand. "I-I'll be right there." His voice is shaking.

"Kay. I'll leave ya some clothes by the door." Alfred's footsteps disappear into his bedroom.

Arthur splashes water on his face. He has to get it together. Alfred can't know what's going on.

Alfred can't die.

Standing on trembling legs, Arthur dries himself off. He opens the door and finds a folded pile of clothes. A shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants.

Arthur quickly puts the clothes on and goes to Alfred's room. He presses his wings against his back so as not to bother the shirt.

Alfred smiles as Arthur enters. He's practically glowing with his tanned torso bare and a pair of basketball shorts hanging low on his hips. "I changed the bed. Crawl in and I'll hand you your drink."

"Where's my tunic?" Arthur breathes. He tears his eyes away from Alfred.

"Is everything okay?" Alfred asks instead of answering.

"Yes. I just need my tunic." Arthur says.

"Okay." Alfred moves to a pile of bedsheets and blankets. He rifles through them. Arthur stares in horror at how many feathers fall from the sheets.

Suddenly, a thought hits him. What color are his wings?

When an angel falls, they lose feathers and their wings will slowly become black. When each feather is gone and the bone structure is blanked, the wings would fall off. A new pair would then grow back, a pair of demon wings. Large and bat-like.

Arthur turns and rushes back to the bathroom. He takes Alfred's shirt off. Does he really want to know? Are his wings more important than Alfred? Arthur shakes his head at himself. He loves Alfred, but he has to see his wings.

He slowly lifts his wings. With a gasp, Arthur covers his mouth. The long feathers that helped him steer while flying were all but gone. He reaches a trembling hand out to touch one of the remaining ones. He cries out at the sting that travels up his wing.

Alfred is quick to Arthur's side. "What's wrong? I heard you shout." His blue eyes shimmer with concern.

"Alfred..." Arthur feels tears come to his eyes. It's always a sad day when an angel begins to fall. Arthur can't help his tears. "It's awful." Arthur finishes. He tucks his wings tightly against his back and collapses into Alfred's embrace.

"What is it? Artie, why are you crying?" Alfred wrapped his strong tan arms around Arthur and began rocking him.

Arthur clings to Alfred. How could he ever understand?

"I found your tunic." Alfred finally whispers. He sets the white cloth on the sink.

"Thank you." Arthur wipes his face and steps back. "I'll be out in a moment. I just need a minute."

"Okay." Alfred caresses Arthur cheek before leaving him.

As soon as the door closes, Arthur tears at his tunic. He finds the journal that contains his souls rather quickly. He slams the book on the floor and flips through the pages.

He finds the page with Alfred's information. He skims over his details until he finds the date of death.

A week from today.

Arthur stalls. His fingers hover over the pages as he rereads the date. The time is early in the morning. 1:12. What could Alfred die of? Angels never know what the humans died of, since no one could ever know. However, they know the time a soul had on the earth. And Alfred's is running out.

He closes the book and hurls it against the wall. It slams before falling to the ground with a thump.

Alfred knocks on the door again. "Arthur? I'm getting worried. Will you please tell me what's wrong?"

If only he could. Arthur picks up his book and tucks it back into his tunic. He opens the door and hugs Alfred tightly. "Do you still have that hot chocolate?"

The American hesitates before returning the embrace. "Yeah. I do."

{•}

It is less than twelve hours before Alfred's death. It is a calm afternoon. Alfred is going about his chores like nothing is wrong. And to him, nothing is.

However, Arthur can't find a peace of mind. He hovers around Alfred. He flinches whenever Alfred lifts something heavy or when he runs with Baby.

Arthur keeps a vigilant eye on his cowboy. He doesn't want to miss Alfred's death. And a chance to save him. He knows he's going to fall, but at least Alfred will be okay.

All too soon, dinner comes and goes. Alfred is dozing on the couch with Arthur's legs draped across his lap. Arthur doesn't understand why, but Alfred loves to rub his legs, even though Arthur hardly uses them.

Arthur lets Alfred sleep. As long as he's sleeping, nothing can happen. Arthur glances at the clock. Half an hour until one. Arthur's heart begins to hammer and his stomach twists.

Suddenly, an alarm rings through the house. Arthur leaps into the air and spins in crazy circles, looking for danger.

Alfred jolts awake and blinks. "'Nado." he mumbles before standing. "It's just the tornado, Artie." Alfred smiles calmly and wraps his arm around Arthur's waist, even though he's still floating. "Cmon." He goes outside holding Arthur.

The wind presses against Arthur, his hair flies in his face and his tunic is pushed to his body. Arthur keeps his wings tucked in to his back. Alfred walks across the field.

Arthur raises his eyes to the sky. It's gray and black and threatening. Arthur opens his mouth to pray, but realizes it would be fruitless. He lowers his body to Alfred's and holds him tightly.

"I got cha, Artie." Alfred shouts over the wind. He kneels down and lifts a metal door. He lowers Arthur into the cellar before climbing in himself.

Arthur waves his hands. He can't see anything. Alfred can't die in a cellar! "Alfred!" His voice cracks.

"Hey, hey." Alfred lights a lamp. "It's okay. I'm here." Shadows are cast across his face yet his eyes are so bright. Arthur clings to him. "We'll sit down here until it's over." Alfred squeezes Arthur before moving away and turning on a radio.

The reception is filled with static. Only a few pieces of information get out. "...worst storm... don't leave your houses... barn animals outside may..."

Alfred turns off the radio. "We'll check in later."

Arthur nods and looks around the cellar. A bed sits in the corner along with a shelf of canned goods and a case of water. A few bowls and utensils sat on a fold out table. Two lawn chairs sat by the table and underneath the table a pile of dog-eared books rested.

"Ma always said to keep this place stocked." Alfred mumbles. The wind whistles above them.

"I thought it was dangerous to be outside during a storm." Arthur whispers. His eyes roam madly for a clock.

"Actually, it's worse to be inside. Somethin' could block the door and no one would know we were here." Alfred explains.

"Oh, okay." It could not be this easy to escape death.

In the next few minutes, only the sound of the wind outside can be heard. Suddenly, Arthur hears a terrible cry from beyond the cellar.

Alfred leaps to his feet from one of the lawn chairs. "Baby!" he calls, moving to the ladder.

This is it. Alfred is going to die saving a horse.

"Alfred!" Arthur flings his arms around Alfred's waist. "Don't go!"

"Let go, Arthur!" Alfred snapped, easily disentangling himself from the angel.

"But, Alfred-!" Despite his efforts, Arthur felt tears well in his eyes.

"She needs me!" Alfred unlocks the door and it swings open. A gust of wind presses him down into the cellar.

"Alfred." Arthur tries again. "Please-"

"It'll be okay." Alfred smiles over his shoulder and pushes himself out of the room.

Arthur follows quickly. The wind makes him stumble, but Alfred walks strong into the storm.

Baby had escaped her corral and had her mane tangled in a tree. Arthur feels his heart stop at the tornado making its way to the horse. And Alfred.

Arthur runs towards them, his hair flying from his face and his tunic and wings catching the wind, lifting his feet from the ground. "Alfred!" he yells. It was too close.

Alfred is able to settle his horse long enough to mess with her mane in the branches. He looks like he's about to be blown away. The storm is only yards from them.

"Alfred!" Arthur reaches his side and shoves him towards the cellar. "Go! Go, please!"

"Arthur! Stop it!" Alfred shouts above the wind. He finally gets Baby loose. With a glance at the tornado, Alfred slaps her flank, and she runs off.

Arthur's eyes move from the storm to Alfred. Storm. Alfred. Stormalfredstormalfredstorm- "Alfred!" Arthur leaps onto Alfred as the tornado falls on them. He spreads his wings to their full extent over them, wrapping his arms around Alfred's head and cradling him to his chest.

The wind roars in his ears as they are enveloped by the storm. Arthur feels Alfred's arms press into his back as they lie on the ground. Arthur squeezes his eyes shut and wills the wind not to pick them up. Debris attacks Arthur's back. He can handle it, as long as Alfred is okay.

Time seems to stretch forever until the wind finally ends. Still, Arthur clutches Alfred, unwilling to let him go.

"Arthur." Alfred whispers. His hands rake up Arthur's back. "Arthur." he says again.

The angel pushes himself up. His arms shake. He winces as his feathers fall out. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"Arthur. Oh god. What's happening?" Alfred wraps his fingers around Arthur's shoulders.

"You were going to die." Arthur whispers through the pain in his wings.

"Arthur!" Alfred shook the angel. "Your wings!"

"I was supposed to collect your soul. But I couldn't! I won't! I can't..." Arthur hugs Alfred and kisses him tenderly. "I love you."

"Arthur, I-"

Everything around them goes dark. It's as if someone flipped off a light switch. Arthur burrows closer to Alfred and glares into the dark. A light seems to stay around them in a circle.

"Arthur." The deep voice rumbled inside Arthur and around him. Alfred whips his head around, trying to see where the voice is coming from. "What have you done?" The voice is sad, disappointed.

"I love him." Arthur said simply. His wings are now featherless. Their bone structure spreads, while new skin grows between the bones. Arthur refused to cry out.

"Then you two shall stay together forever." God says.

"Arthur, what's going on?" Alfred asks quietly. His eyes are so wide, and so scared, and so beautiful.

"Just don't let go." Arthur says softly. He kisses Alfred as the cowboy falls backwards into darkness.

{•}

**Author's note: There is no continuation to this.**


End file.
